Broken Hart: The Hart Duet Book One

by Bo Reid

  Little Hartley and baby Brooks showing up to a farmers’ market with me, an obvious convict, also seems to turn a number of heads. Tattoos cover both my arms, blue ink dots my knuckles, the buzz cut paired with the art climbing up my neck, it all screams prison. I can tell I’m not the only one who thinks so. Hartley doesn’t even seem to notice the looks, or she just doesn’t care. I’m not sure which I would like more.

  Hartley doesn’t see me as my conviction or as my past. She just sees me, Kasen Kingston. She sees potential, a friend, someone she trusts.

  Grabbing her purse, she looks at me, and I swear I see the moment a wicked idea flashes across her face. I know I’m going to hate whatever she says next.

  “You have pockets, right?” she asks. I nod slowly.

  A slow, evil smile spreads across her face. I didn’t realize my sweet Hart could look so devious. She tosses her purse back on the seat, pulls out her wallet, takes all the cash out and her phone, then throws it in the back seat. Grabbing her keys, she rounds the Jeep to my side. Reaching her hands out, she displays the contents: money, phone, and keys.

  “Will you put this in your pockets?” she asks.

  “When did I agree to be your purse?” I quip.

  She shrugs. “You have pockets.”

  As if that explains everything. I roll my eyes, but take her stuff and shove it into my pockets. She smiles, then reaches for her stack of reusable bags, but I grab those too. We turn and make our way into the market; it’s controlled chaos.

  “Do you have a plan?” I ask.

  “Of course, I do. This isn’t my first day, Kasen,” she huffs, sounding exasperated. “Just watch and learn,” she says confidently and maneuvers herself and Brooks through the crowd.

  While she is tiny and can slip between people, I’m like a giant roadblock and can’t do any slipping around or nimble maneuvering. I have to settle for watching as she nearly disappears into the crowd.

  By the time I catch up with Hartley, she’s getting a bag of fruits and vegetables. She reaches into her stack of bags and hands an empty one over to the vendor.

  “I need thirty dollars, please,” she says to me, and I dig two twenty-dollar bills from my pocket. She hands them to the vendor then waves off the change.

  “Keep the change for next week’s bag. Can I talk you into some extra blackberries?” she asks, her tone so sweet, sugar might as well be dripping off her tongue. The lady smiles.

  “Of course, sweet child. Anything for you and Brooks. I'll see you next weekend,” she says, scribbling notes on a small pad.

  This time, instead of slipping away from me, Hartley grabs my hand, intertwining our fingers and pulling me along with her. Her sweet voice politely excuses us along the way. Anytime someone bumps into her, she just smiles and apologies like it was her fault, but I want to wrap her and Brooks up in my arms to protect them.

  At the next booth, the man behind the table comes around to give Hartley a hug as soon as he sees her. A small part of me wants to growl in protest at anyone else touching her, but she isn’t mine to claim out loud.

  “We’ve got a new mix, girl,” he says.

  “Oh, I can’t wait!” she squeals and claps her hands.

  Digging in the bag of bags, she pulls out a smaller one and hands it to the man. He gives her bag in return.

  “I need twenty dollars, please,” she says, turning to me. I dig out more money and hand it over.

  “John, this is my friend, Kasen,” she tells the man. She whispers, “This is his first time at a farmers’ market,” like it’s a conspiracy. He reaches out his hand to shake mine.

  I see the way he eyes me--my height; my broad shoulders, and the tattoos creeping up my neck, covering my hands and arms. John's gaze slides to Hartley, but she just smiles like nothing is amiss.

  Even Sol was wary of me when we first met. I saw it in the way he eyed Hartley like she was crazy. Hell, for all I know, he still thinks she’s a bit nuts for all she's done for me. I mean, even I’m starting to think she’s either a complete saint or she’s insane. Maybe my head is all messed up and this is all a dream -- though it's not such a bad dream. If I’m insane or this is a dream, I don’t want to wake up.

  The rest of the booths are more of the same: the vendor already has a bag ready for Hartley, she places an order for next weekend, then introduces me. Her friend. Not a felon, or a convict, or even her employee -- all of which are things that I am. No, I’m her friend. No one says anything to me, but I see how they look at me and then at Hartley, wondering what I’m doing here. They know I’m not good enough for her. Yeah, people, I’m painfully aware of that fact.

  The one time someone made a rude comment to me about my “prison tattoos,” I was prepared to ignore it, but Hartley was not. Somehow, Hartley managed to get the lady to apologize for judging me on my appearance, when she knows nothing of my character.

  Yeah, Hartley got some little old lady to apologize to a felon. She’s an amazing woman.

  When Brooks woke up, she even manages to discreetly nurse while he's still in the carrier thing, all while talking and shopping. I don’t think anyone but me noticed. I carry most of the bags, but make two trips back to the Jeep to put them away and free up my hands. When I ask Hartley what she normally does with all this stuff if she comes alone, she just shrugs and says she manages. If she were mine, she would never have to manage again.

  We eat lunch at the farmers' market, then pick up Hartley’s meat order from a butcher. I had no idea that they have butchers at farmers' markets. When we finally make it home, it’s early afternoon. I'd realized in the middle of our outing that Hartley doesn’t need to go to the farmers’ market when it opens, because all the vendors already have her orders bagged up for her. She just likes to. I can accept that.

  Hartley puts Brooks in the cradle in the living room for a nap. We work together to put everything away, and I notice Hartley has the week’s meal plan outlined on the fridge with breakfasts, lunches, and dinners.

  “Tomorrow night we'll meal prep lunches and breakfasts for the week,” she tells me.

  She’s organized pretty much every aspect of her life. I guess being the owner of such a large business, and a single mom makes that necessary. Meal prepping is probably easier for her in the long run.

  “Where does Brooks go when you’re at work?” I ask.

  “He’ll come with us. He’s still pretty easy to manage. On heavy work days, he stays with the sitter, Martha, but it’s rare to have a day when I can’t take him with me.”

  After the groceries are put away, Hartley and I put in a movie. She doesn’t even last through fifteen minutes before she’s curled into a tight ball asleep on the other side of the couch. I grab the blanket off the back of the couch and cover her up. This feels right. I’ve been out for a little over twenty-four hours, and it’s been the best twenty-four hours of my life.

  Being here with Brooks and Hartley, watching them as they nap in the living room, walking around the farmers’ market, meeting Zombie Hartley, and joking around with her in the kitchen over breakfast... it all just feels right, like this was always where I was meant to be.

  Chapter 14: Cosmo

  Hartley

  It’s going to be Kasen’s first day at the store, and it’ll be a busy one. Nothing like throwing him in the deep end and seeing if he can swim.

  I pass him in the hallway at five in the morning on my way to get Brooks; Kasen is so damn chipper in the mornings I want to punch his beautiful face. Instead of taking Brooks back to my room, I just nurse him in the rocking chair. When he falls back asleep, I put him in his crib, but it’s too late for me to go back to sleep if I want the day to run smoothly.

  While heading into my room, I decide to take a long hot shower, then dry and straighten my hair. I throw on a little make-up, just enough to not look half dead, put on my ripped black jeans and my gray Wild Hart Outfitters tank top; even the owners have to wear the uniform.

  I head into the kitchen and grab t
he prepped breakfast burritos from the fridge, toss two in the toaster oven, then click the coffee maker on. Grabbing my laptop, I turn it on to try to get some work done while I wait for my coffee. I connect my phone to the speakers in the kitchen, turning the volume down so I don’t wake Brooks. Clicking through my playlists, I find a good morning mix of Hardy, Kane Brown, and Florida Georgia Line. Those boys really know how to get my morning mood up.

  Kasen walks into the kitchen from the back door just as the toaster oven and the coffee maker beep.

  “How do you do that?” I ask him, not moving my gaze from the spreadsheet on my laptop as I run the numbers through my head.

  “Do what?” he asks, kicking his shoes off at the backdoor.

  “Well, first, how do you manage to show up right as breakfast and coffee are ready? And how do you get up at five in the morning every day, and seem so happy about it?” I ask grumpily.

  I don’t do well before coffee and food. He laughs softly as he makes his way to the coffee maker, grabs two mugs and fills them with liquid gold. He adds sugar and cream to mine, just sugar for him.

  He hands me my mug, then takes out the hot breakfast burritos, passing me one. I take a sip of my coffee. Once the goodness hits my lips, I sigh contently.

  “Better?” he asks, chuckling into his own mug and watching me over the rim.

  “Much.”

  “When do we need to get going?” He takes the seat across from me at the kitchen island.

  “We have about an hour,” I respond.

  We sit quietly while we eat our burritos and drink our coffee. I like the fact that silence with Kasen is never uncomfortable. It’s peaceful, like the silence on the ridge.

  “What are you doing?” he asks, nodding towards the laptop.

  “Work stuff, I have to go over these spreadsheets, send out some emails,” I tell him.

  “So you’re working before even getting to work?” he asks. He's shaking his head, but I see the smile he's trying to fight back.

  “No rest for the wicked.” I wink.

  Laughing, he cleans up the mess from breakfast and heads to his room.

  I hear Brooks start to wake up and I check the monitor, watching him stretch his little arms over his head. I smile at my little monster and go get him.

  I dress him in his black sweatpants and Wild Hart Outfitters onesie, because even babies have to wear the uniform. He looks adorable.

  He has become our unofficial store mascot; regular customers expect to see him when they come in. And I suspect once he starts walking, it will be hard to keep him away from the climbing wall. He already takes after his mama.

  Kasen comes out of his room when we do, and I bite back a laugh at him pulling at his shirt. He looks to me and sighs.

  “I think I need a bigger size.”

  “I would say so, just don’t flex and the shirt might make it till the end of the day,” I say, unable to hold back my snort laugh as he glares at me.

  “Just put on one of your other shirts and I’ll order you a bigger size today,” I tell him.

  He turns on his heel and heads back into his room, stripping off the too small shirt as he goes. I get an eye full of his tattooed, muscular back. Maybe I should make shirts optional?

  We pull into the parking lot of Wild Hart and get out of the Jeep. Kasen grabs Brooks’s diaper bag and my backpack while I grab the car seat out of the back. He slings the bags over his shoulder, then reaches out a hand to take the seat from me. I happily hand it over to him.

  When he smiles down at me, I bite my lip to hold back my own grin. I feel a small flutter in the pit of my belly, and I have to remind myself he’s just a friend, that he doesn’t want me like that. Even if he did, that would change if he found out the truth.

  We head for the side door of the store. The shop floor doesn’t open for another hour, but Sol and I get here early to start the day. I have to get all of Kasen’s paperwork filled out this morning. I flip on the lights in the back hallway as we head back to my office.

  When I open my office door, I hear him laugh behind me. There's baby stuff everywhere: a pack ‘n play in the corner, a changing area, toys, blankets, even an extra breast pump. I look back and see the grin lingering on his face, but he doesn’t say anything.

  It doesn’t take long for us to fill out his new hire packet. I’m able to get his shirts ordered. Sol walks in as I’m about to go over the day’s plans.

  “Hart, we have a problem,” is the first thing Sol says when he walks in.

  “Good morning to you too, Brother, such wonderful weather we’re having, isn’t it?” I ignore his bullshit greeting. He rolls his eyes.

  “Good morning, Sister. Yes, we’re having lovely weather. By the way, we have a problem.”

  I gesture to the chair next to Kasen.Sol takes it, nodding to Kasen by way of greeting.

  “Alright, what is it?” I ask.

  “Uh, should I leave?” Kasen asks.

  “No, you’re fine, I’m not done with you yet anyways.” I wave his question aside, keeping my eyes on Sol.

  “Someone made a mistake on the order form to Mountain Grown. We have three times as many dry food packages as we should, and they’re coming in today,” Sol explains.

  “Okay? I don’t see the issue. We sell out of Mountain Grown twice as fast as anything else, so it’s not like it’s a waste. We might take a small profit hit this month with the added order, but it’s not going to break us, Sol. Let’s make sure there’s a place in the back to store the extra and get Mike on an in-your-face display to draw people in. We could have Becca run a secret sale on our social media, too,” I decide, because this really isn’t a huge deal.

  “Okay, fine. What are we going to do about who made the mistake?” he sighs.

  We kind of hate this part of the job, the being a boss part. But we want Wild Hart Outfitters to be successful for the long run, and we can’t do that if we're everyone’s friend all the time.

  I shrug, “Talk to them, let them know they made an error and make sure they know to double check the order sheets before they send them out next time.”

  Again, it’s not a big deal. I check on Kasen out of the corner of my eye and see that he's taking this all in. When Brooks starts to fuss, he gets up without ever being asked and picks him up from the pack n’ play. He cradles Brooks close to his chest and paces back and forth inside my office, gently swaying with him.

  When I turn my attention back to Sol, he is watching me watch Kasen, and I see the sly grin that spreads across his face. When Kasen has his back turned to us, I throw a pen at Sol’s face. He manages to knock it out of the way, but when it clatters to the ground, Kasen turns his attention back to us.

  “Do you know who made the error?” I rush Sol before Kasen can ask any questions of his own.

  He scrubs a hand down his face, “Brian.”

  I rack my brain, but the only Brian I can think of is one of our sales associates. There is no reason why he should have been doing our inventory order.

  “Brian from the floor?” I clarify, and he nods.

  “I see. Okay, well then it really wasn’t his fault, was it? Brian is a floor associate, not someone that has been trained to do inventory. I’m assuming he did the order when everyone got hit with the cold that went around and we were short-staffed?” Sol nods.

  “Then, in that case, we need to thank him for stepping up when we needed him. Let him know there was a mistake, but we’re not holding him responsible, and give him two more paid vacation days to be used within this quarter as a thank you for helping out when we needing him that week,” I instruct Sol. He nods, then stands and heads to his office to make notes of this conversation.

  By the time the rest of our openers are here and getting ready for the day, I've already given Kasen a full tour and gone over most of what he’ll be doing day to day. I put in a call to a friend at the DMV, and they assured me that Kasen’s license is still valid. I had them fax me a temporary copy and mail the hard c
opy to the house for him.

  Today’s workday will be a little more fun than normal, and Kasen is going to be coming with me to the Jeep dealership. I have a special surprise for one of our employees. This is the part of my job that I love.

  Dad always taught us that since we have money, we should do good things with it. My favorite thing to do is help others directly. I hate donating to charity galas, because those that manage them tend to take huge cuts of the donations to line their own pockets. When I’m going to shell out a few hundred dollars or more, I want to see it benefiting someone else.

  A new Jeep Wrangler in forest green awaits our arrival. It's lifted, with mudders, alack hard top, an extra soft top, custom sound system, a light bar, and a winch on the front bumper. Perfect for playing in the mud.

  I see Kasen eyeing the beauty as we pass. I walk inside, and as soon as Jim the sales manager sees me, he comes over to greet us.

  “Ms. Montgomery, did you see it?” he asks.

  “I sure did, Jim. I trust everything is to the specifications I chose?”

  He nods, “Yes, ma’am, of course. Let me grab the keys. Everything is taken care of, so you’re all set,” he says.

  “New car?” Kasen asks.

  “New car for Brantley. You’ll meet him today. I’ve kept track of employee records since we opened. Brantley was one of our very first hires; he started at the bottom, worked his ass off, and climbed the ladder. I have enough good comment cards on him to fill a file box, and not a single bad one. His dad recently passed away, and he sold his car to help his mom pay the funeral costs. That new Jeep out there,” I say pointing to it, “that’s his, paid in full. A gift. And I paid his mom’s utility bills for the rest of the year.”

  He stares at me completely dumbfounded, until his smile breaks through, “You like doing this, don’t you?”

  “What do you mean, doing what?”